


i think we might both be alive

by blackwood (transjon)



Series: XXmin sprint fics [3]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Affection, Gen, Vignette, hair petting, thats kinda. it. you can read this as jondaisy but its not explicit so i didnt use the ship tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:28:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23949880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transjon/pseuds/blackwood
Summary: “Are you done for the day, then?” Daisy asks, eventually, voice raspy in her throat.“Yes,” Jon lies. “Uh, just have to refile this statement.”Daisy cracks one eye open, just barely. “Liar,” she says, and then she closes both eyes again.-a quiet moment in jon's office.
Relationships: Jonathan Sims & Alice "Daisy" Tonner
Series: XXmin sprint fics [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1731235
Comments: 3
Kudos: 115





	i think we might both be alive

**Author's Note:**

> title is from being a person by squalloscope thank YOU michael mcbichael for helping me come up wth a title
> 
> in my series of 25 min ficlets........anyway i love jon and daisy and i think they deserve some. Affection. post-buried daisy is so good. i love them

Outside the office door there’s the sound of abrupt, booming laughter. 

Jon puts down the file he’s holding in his hands and glances down. Daisy’s not keeping watch, exactly, but her eyes are alert, sharp, and her body language is angular in a way Jon’s learned to associate with dogs when they hear the squeak of a toy, or the bark of another dog. She’s not looking at anything in particular – just. Looking.

“You alright?” Jon asks, voice low, so as not to startle her. 

“Mhm,” Daisy says. She doesn’t look at him, but her shoulders round out a bit. She blinks, hard, fast, and then she leans backwards a bit, back thudding softly against Jon’s shin. “Startled, ‘s all.”

Jon inhales. He thinks about attack dogs, and then dogs in general, and then wolves, and then the domestication of what once were somewhere between wolf and dog. Something wild and strong and scary. Something heavy and big. Something sharp and bloodthirsty. It twists in his guts unpleasantly. “Can I do anything?” he asks. 

Daisy turns to look at him, then, and a slow smile spreads across her face. It’s not amused, necessarily, but it’s not sad either. Dry, maybe. “I’m fine,” she says. “Are _you_ okay?”

“What?” Jon asks. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Daisy, at his feet, scoffs. “You tell me.”

This bizarre reverse psychology. This purposefully strange deflection. Jon lets his hand hover over the top of Daisy’s head until Daisy notices and stretches her body up and towards it enough that his palm brushes against her hair softly. When she sits back down Jon presses his hand down and into her hair, scratches his blunt fingernails through her scalp briefly, threads his fingers through her blonde hair. 

“Mm,” Daisy hums. Jon thinks about dogs, again, but in a nicer way, this time. Not the animal aspect, this time, just the softness. The way her hair feels soft and grounding under his scarred palm. He’s never been much of a dog person, but Daisy is mostly human. 

(Jon resists the urge to ruffle her hair. He’d done that, once. He doesn’t think he wants to try again.)

They sit like that for a bit, Daisy’s back broad and warm against Jon’s skinny leg, and eventually Daisy leans her head back towards Jon, face tilting up towards the ceiling, and closes her eyes. Jon shifts slightly, puts both hands on her head, left hand moving to cup the back of her head at the base of her skull while the other one pets through her hair, forehead to the centre of her head. 

“Are you done for the day, then?” Daisy asks, eventually, voice raspy in her throat. 

“Yes,” Jon lies. “Uh, just have to refile this statement.”

Daisy cracks one eye open, just barely. “Liar,” she says, and then she closes both eyes again.

Jon says nothing. His fingers find a sensitive spot just behind her ear, and she shudders, a full body thing. “ _Jon_ ,” she says, a tone of fake disdain, like she thinks she should be mad at him for it but isn’t, and Jon hums in response. She says nothing else, and Jon snakes his other hand to the other side of her head, fingers tangling in the hair near her other ear. Daisy pouts, but she doesn’t say anything. Jon thinks about kissing the top of her head, suddenly. It’s a burst of unexpected, raw affection that he doesn’t know what to do with – something bone deep, soul deep, something gentle and violent at the same time. Daisy leans into his hands heavier, and Jon goes back to petting her. It’s fine, he thinks, blood rushing to his face, it’s fine. 

Eventually he pulls his hands away. Daisy opens her eyes, a look of shocked annoyance on her face. “My wrists hurt,” Jon says defensively. “This is a weird angle.”

“Fine,” she mutters, and straightens her neck, and then, thinking better of it, rolls it side to side. It cracks, twice, and each noise makes Jon wince out loud. Daisy smiles at him, smug and knowing, and Jon moves his leg to the side so that she has to correct her posture to stay upright. For a second he thinks she’s going to sink her teeth in his calf, but she just moves so that she’s sitting between his legs instead, thighs on either side of her shoulders, and goes “is this better?”

Jon reaches a hand down, and it is better, and he says so. “Good,” she says, and settles in closer so that the side of her face rests against Jon’s thigh. Jon’s hands find a good speed again, an absent-minded pattern of gentle tugging and threading his fingers through her hair, and she closes her eyes again. Jon can’t see it, this time, but he can sense it, somehow. 

“Go back to your statements,” she says, gruff and low. “It’s fine.” 

“Oh,” Jon says, “I mean – if you’re sure.”

There’s a second of silence. Daisy swallows heavily. “Just – just keep doing that,” she says. “And I won’t hear any of it.”

“I can do that,” Jon says. His hands don’t still.

“Get to it, Jon,” Daisy says, and Jon does.


End file.
